Dangerous Game
by The Rockerbabe
Summary: History was about to repeat itself for Detective Louis Fitch as a case from the past comes back to haunt him…Set in my "Bailamos/Rhythm Divine" Universe
1. Prologue

Title: Dangerous Game (1/?)

Chapter Rating: T (Language)

Overall Rating: M (Language, Violence, Sexual Content)

Disclaimer: Detroit 1-8-7 does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. It belongs to ABC.

Spoilers: After "Lost Child/ Murder 101"; Set in my "Bailamos/Rhythm Divine" universe

Summary: History was about to repeat itself for Detective Louis Fitch…

Author's Note: This has been unbeta-ed, please forgive any mistakes. Enjoy.

* * *

Detective Ariana Sanchez could feel something was wrong the minute fellow homicide Detective Louis Fitch picked up the phone at his desk. Barely a minute into the conversation, the feeling of the room changed. The calm, easy mood was suddenly gone. The room practically crackled with tension and rage. The rest of their squad could feel it too.

Her partner, John Stone turned around and watched quietly. Detective Vikram Mahajan stopped telling his joke to his partner, Jesse Longford; the humor dying on his lips as Fitch slammed down the phone. Damon Washington watched his partner carefully, deciding it was one of those moments that it was best to just not say anything. The five detectives heard his harsh, angry exhale; watched as he rose to his feet, gripping his empty coffee mug before he suddenly hurled it against the farthest wall away from them all.

They jumped slightly as the cup shattered, pieces flying in every direction. Their boss heard the crash and bolted out of her office. Maureen Mason watched Fitch cautiously. She knew his moods, knew he fought and argued and yelled. But he rarely acted out like that. It had been a long time since she had seen his anger turn to uncontainable rage. The last time she had seen him like that was ten years ago…

It was one of the worst cases they had seen come into the office and it was his first as a homicide detective. One that haunted her still… and she hadn't worked directly on that case. But she had seen the aftermath…

He met her eyes and she wanted to take a step back under his severe gaze. But she didn't move from her spot; instead she raised her head higher. His eyes had told her everything she needed to know.

"How?" was all she asked him.

"Bastard broke out." Fitch's voice was smooth despite his rage, "Fucker took out most of the guards using a shank made out of a goddamn spoon!"

Mason swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat; tried to block out the images of the bodies that she had seen secondhand through crime scene photos. It was only a matter of time before history would begin to repeat itself and she wondered if it would destroy him. She had seen what had happened to Fitch after the first time…

But now was not the time for speculation. Right now, they needed a plan. And a damned good one before the bodies began to pile up.

"Alright people," Her voice was strong, projecting to all ears in the vicinity, "Be prepared for a long one. This isn't going to be easy."

"What is it?" Stone asked.

All eyes moved to Fitch as he said the four fateful words, "Paul Rook is back."


	2. Part I

Title: Dangerous Game (Part I)  
Claim: Detroit 1-8-7  
Table: Buffet  
Prompt: #4 ("There are three things which the superior man guards against. In Youth…Lust; When he is strong…quarrelsomeness; When he is old…covetousness")  
Rating: T+  
Summary: The First Body is found and the "game" begins  
Warnings: Language, Violence, Semi-Graphic Descriptions of Dead Bodies

Disclaimer: Detroit 1-8-7 does not belong to me in any way

Author's Note: Unbeta-ed; all mistakes are mine. This was written for my prompt table over at fc_smorgasbord

* * *

Evidence boxes covered almost every inch of the conference table. Fitch, Washington, and Stone went down to the evidence locker and signed them out at the Lieutenant's request. Where she, Longford, and Fitch knew the case like the back of their hands, it was long before Mahajan, Sanchez, Washington, and Stone's time.

Fitch sat at the head of the conference table, staring into his cup of tea, as the rest of the team emptied the boxes. There was little talking as the grotesque pictures were taken out and set down in the remaining spaces on the table top. Mason moved to Fitch and set her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his eyes were wary.

"Will you be okay taking the lead on this?" She asked.

He nodded. "I'll be okay once this is over."

"Won't we all," She sighed, "Ready to brief everyone?"

"Yeah," He stood up and cleared his throat.

The rest of the group looked at him and he gestured for them to sit down and he took in a long breath as they got in their seats.

"Ten years ago, Paul Rook began his killing spree. His first victim was a young woman who had been working at the Hard Rock Cafe. He kidnapped her and raped, tortured, and maimed her over the span of three days. After he killed her, he put her on display on the steps of the Joe." Fitch sighed, "Her name was Rose. Rose Hamilton. She was only twenty-three…She had been putting herself through college…"

He closed his eyes and could still see her; body broken. Bloody cuts and burns covered her. Throat slashed from ear to ear. She was almost unrecognizable underneath all the blood, cuts, and burns…

"He left a clue, taunting us to find him, he thought of it as a game…It took us two months to finally track him…but not before he butchered nine more women…I played his game and won. When I arrested him, he vowed revenge on me because of it…"

"Aren't you worried he'll come after you?" Washington asked

"No," Fitch said firmly, "I worry about what he will do to _get_ to me."

Mason, who had left to answer her phone, came back into the room, her full lips drawn down into a deep frown.

"We have a victim."

Fitch closed his eye and felt his gut clench. _Shit._ It had only been six hours. Rook was moving quickly. "Where?"

"Outside the Ren Cen, along the Riverwalk…"

_Fuck!_ He nodded and headed out of the bullpen, Washington on his heels. The others followed behind quietly, each trying preparing them for what was in store from them.

But, of course, nothing could prepare them for what was in store.

Medical Examiner Abbey Ward was already on scene, her face uncharacteristically drawn. When they walked up, she was just standing there, looking at the body as the crime scene unit took pictures. There was absolutely no color in her cheeks. She cast them a glance and as they took in the sight of Paul Rook's newest victim; her throat was cut so deep that the bastard had practically beheaded her. Fitch could see the bones of her spinal cord through all the gore.

"He left you a message, Fitch." She informed him, gesturing to the ground.

Sanchez watched Fitch carefully as he stepped toward the body. To say she was worried was an understatement. After his outburst earlier, she watched him withdraw into himself. It wasn't unusual for him to be quiet and brooding, but this was different. She could see his fear underneath it all.

Her gaze drifted down to the ground, following his stare. Written across the sidewalk in front of the victim in blood was a note.

**There are three things in which the superior man guards against:**

**In Youth…**

**When He Is Strong…**

**When He Is Old…**

"What the hell does that mean?" Washington wondered out loud.

"I don't know." Fitch replied, his voice soft.

"It sounds familiar…" Mahajan, who had stepped closer to the note and to Abbey, said, his brows furrowed

"It's unfinished." Stone added, "The missing pieces will probably give us an answer to where he is or where he'll be next."

"Way to state the obvious," Sanchez rolled her eyes.

"If it's okay with you guys, I'd like to get this girl to the morgue." Abbey said softly.

"You can take her." Fitch answered with a nod, then turned to the team, "We've got his message, let's head back. There's no use trying to find witnesses here, canvassing would a waste of time. The message is the key."

Mahajan touched Abbey's arm lightly and flashed her a weak smile before turning back to Longford and heading back to where they parked up along Atwater Drive. As they moved to their cars, Sanchez hung back and fell into step beside Fitch. She let her arm brush against his as they walked. He looked at her; his eyes guarded and distanced himself just enough so their arms weren't touching. She gave him a hard look as a brief jolt of rejection shocked through her system. They agreed to keep their relationship a secret, being careful at work for fear of being found out and separated. Despite that, they did touch discretely from time to time on rough cases.

And seeing what this animal did to his victims, in person, shook her to her core. She needed to be close to him, needed to feel him, and needed his strength. And she knew he needed her too. Sanchez could read his tells; being intimate for three months had given her the ability to see pieces of Fitch that, he himself, denied existence.

Her worry from earlier still hung around her like a thick coat. But now it twisted in her gut, in her throat. Tears suddenly stung at the corners of her eyes as she found herself trying not to cry. Sanchez scrubbed her face with her hands and chided herself for being so emotional.

"You okay, Sanchez?" Stone asked as they got into their car

"Yeah, fine." She answered

"Are you sure?" He pressed

"Just drive, February." She snapped

"Don't be such a bitch." He muttered

"Don't act like my mother."

He started up the car and they drove back to the station in silence. Back in the bullpen, Sanchez felt a little better, taking in the comfort of being surrounded by people. She watched as Fitch moved to the dry erase board that had been moved into the room and began writing, his handwriting coming out in a sloppy scribble.

_Three things a superior man guards against_…it was classically phrased. The missing words were _what_ a man would guard against in youth, when strong, and when old. Feeling lost, Sanchez moved forward and stood in front of the board, studying the quotation.

"Let the game begin." She murmured quietly.


	3. Part II

Title: Dangerous Game (Part II)  
Claim: Detroit 1-8-7  
Table: Buffet  
Prompt: #4 ("There are three things which the superior man guards against. In Youth…Lust; When he is strong…quarrelsomeness; When he is old…covetousness")  
Rating: T+  
Summary: The quotation is explained and Rook makes his next move  
Warnings: Language, Violence, Semi-Graphic Descriptions of Dead Bodies

Notes: The continuation of "Dangerous Game" Set in my _Bailamos/Rhythm Divine _Universe

Disclaimer: Detroit 1-8-7 does not belong to me in any way

Author's Note: Unbeta-ed; all mistakes are mine.

* * *

They worked late into the night. The white board was filled with everyone's handwriting as they wrote down the bits of information they had learned. They had yet to figure out the rest of the riddle. They had contacted people from Rook's part to see if he had contacted any of them. That was a dead end. Rook was in the wind.

They knew the victim was Annabelle Turner. Just eighteen and an all around nice girl who "would give her life for her friends and family"; she volunteered, never wished anyone ill will and smiled no matter what. The news of her murder sent nearly everyone they talked to into tears. By the time the phone calls and visits were over, morale was lower than normal. Mahajan and Stone had gone down to the morgue to have the family identify her body and had come back looking, for lack of a better comparison, like someone had run over their dogs. Stone told the story, his voice dull and empty.

Apparently, the mother had screamed and began to sob hysterically when Abbey pulled the sheet down to reveal Annabelle's face. The father gave a stiff nod to indicate that the lifeless form on the autopsy table had been his bright, bubbly daughter. Mrs. Turner had to be carried out of the room by her husband after Abbey put the sheet back over the girl's face.

Sanchez exhaled heavily and ran her hand through her hair. She looked down at her empty coffee mug and debated between getting more coffee or switching to tea. Her stomach was still twisted in knots from earlier, from Fitch's rejection. It hadn't helped that Fitch hadn't talked to her since, hadn't even looked at her. She got up and went to the kitchenette and grabbed the hot water and a tea bag out of Fitch's stash.

"Stealing my tea?" His voice came from behind her and was lightly teasing

She turned and gave him a bland, tight, smile. "Yeah,"

"What's wrong?" He asked seriously, his eyes searching hers

"What do you mean?" She countered, looking down into her mug, playing dumb

His eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me, something's bothering you," His was low and held a touch irritation

She grabbed his arm; looked around, seeing that everyone was occupied, led him out of the kitchenette and pulled him into one of the back interrogation rooms, and shut the door behind them.

"What's bothering me?" Sanchez hissed, "You."

"Me?"

"Yeah," She put her mug down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest, "You pulled away from me, Louis."

"We're at work-"

"Don't give me that bullshit! We've been close at work before! I needed to be close to you! I can see that Rook is getting to you! Don't push me away!"

"I'm not pushing you away, Ariana!"

"You are!"

"What do you want me to say, huh?" He stepped closer to her, crowding her, "That I'm scared? That I'm scared that he'll come after you?" His reached up and cupped her cheek, "Because I am."

She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his hand, "I'm a big girl, Louis, and I can take care of myself."

"I know that," He stood his head, "I know that but I can't help it. That man is a monster and he wants to get revenge."

"I'll be fine, Louis," She opened her eyes and smiled up at him, "No one knows about us, so I'm in the clear. There is nothing to worry about."

Fitch sighed and gave her a small smile. "You're right. Forgive me?"

She smiled and faked thinking it over before answering, "Yeah. I'm a sucker for that smile."

He chuckled and dropped his hand down to hers and gave it a squeeze. "Let's get back."

Sanchez nodded and gave him a look. "I'll head out first."

Fitch inclined his head and she grabbed her mug and walked out of the room and back to the bullpen. She settled down into her chair and looked up as Fitch entered the room, watching as he sat down at the conference table and stared at the white board.

"I am starving. I'm gonna go on a McD's run," Washington declared to the room as he stood up and stretched, "Anyone want to come with me?"

"I will." Sanchez added, "I could go some food…and a shake…"

She had skipped lunch, not in the mood to eat as her stomach had been in knots, and was now aware of the fact that she was starving.

"Alright!" Washington grinned and grabbed his coat

Sanchez followed suit and shrugged into her jacket as she moved to Washington's desk.

"Anybody else?" The rookie asked the room

"Nah," Mahajan shook his head, "I'm in the mood for Chinese and…" He stopped suddenly and looked at the white board, his face drawn as he started to remember the rest of the quotation.

"What is it?" Fitch asked him

"Shh, I'm thinking…I know where I've heard this before, I'm trying to remember the rest of it."

"Should we stay?" Sanchez asked

"No, get some food." Fitch answered, "No use working on an empty stomach." He turned and looked at his partner and Sanchez, "Just be careful."

Washington nodded. "We'll be safe."

He and Sanchez headed out of the bullpen. The pair made idle chitchat as they walked through the lobby, joking and blowing off stress. Mid-way through the open space, a man passed them and stumbled on a wrinkle in the carpet, bumping into Sanchez. He apologized profusely and she assured him it was fine, flashing him a friendly smile. The man returned the smile and apologized one more time over his shoulder as he continued on, heading in the direction they had just come from. Washington got the door for Sanchez and she laughed, knowing it was out of habit. They got into her squad car and pulled out of the parking lot.

In the bullpen, Mahajan had a blue dry erase marker in his hand and was writing in the missing words.

**There are three things which the superior man guards against**

**In Youth…**_Lust_

**When he is strong…** _Quarrelsomeness_

**When he is old…**_Covetousness_

The rest of the squad stood behind him, taking in the full message.

"What is he trying to tell you?" Mason asked

"I'm not sure." Fitch replied

"Detective Fitch?" a man interrupted further discussion on the topic as he stepped into the bullpen.

Fitch turned and studied him. He was a civilian, plainly dressed. There was nothing distinct about him, other than the fact that he held a large envelope in his hands.

"Yes?" He replied

"This is for you." The man stepped forward and handed him the envelope

"Who's it from?" Fitch asked as he undid the metal facets and opened the envelope

"What do you covet, Detective Fitch?" The man countered abruptly, ignoring Fitch's question

The Detective's blood ran cold. "What did you just say to me?"

The man nodded toward the envelope. "_Who_ do you covet?"

Fitch pulled out the contents of the envelope. They were pictures; candids; all in black and white. There were numerous photos, all of him and Sanchez together. They had been followed for months, he realized as he went through them. The last picture was of them in an embrace, their lips locked in a heated kiss just outside her apartment building…

"Where. Is. She?" Fitch bit out as he dropped the pictures and grabbed the man by the shirt front.

The man just laughed and Fitch moved fast, slamming the man into the wall.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Fitch yelled

Mason moved first, picking up the pictures, and studying them.

"Oh, my," She murmured, drawing the attention of the other detectives, who took the pictures from her hands and added their exclamations to the mix. The man continued to laugh.

"It's too late," his voice was smug, "He already has her."

There was a flurry of movement and one of the detectives entered the bullpen, looking flustered.

"Lieutenant, there's been an accident…Washington and Sanchez are missing…"

To Be Continued

* * *

Yes, I'm sure the Detectives' could have just googled the quote, but let's pretend that google doesn't exsist...Thanks!


	4. Part III

Title: Dangerous Game (Part III)  
Claim: Detroit 1-8-7  
Table: Buffet  
Prompt: #9 (Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves)  
**Rating: M**  
Summary: Rook has made his final move. Fitch is out for blood.  
**Warnings: Language, Violence, **

Notes: The continuation of "Dangerous Game" Set in my _Bailamos/Rhythm Divine _Universe

Disclaimer: Detroit 1-8-7 does not belong to me in any way

Author's Note: Unbeta-ed; all mistakes are mine. This was written for my prompt table over at fc_smorgasbord. Also, you'll be seeing some Spanish tossed in here…I must warn you that I do not know Spanish and used freetranslation(dot)com to get the words. So if they're wrong, blame the website, LOL!

* * *

There was darkness. And Pain. She tried to move but couldn't; her arms were chained above her head and she tried to move her legs but found them just as useless. What the hell happened? Sanchez struggled to remember as she regained consciousness. She and Washington had been heading out to go get some food…they had left McDonald's…a car coming out of nowhere and crashing into theirs…then nothing but darkness. She struggled to open her eyes and found herself unable to see as a blindfold obscured her vision.

"Washington? Washington?" She tried her voice, finding it hoarse and sore, "Damon?"

"Ariana, thank God!" His voice was fully alert, telling her he awoke before her, "I've been so worried about you."

"What's going on?"

She heard footsteps coming close and a sudden clanking of metal against metal and Washington's voice began yelling. "Get away from her!"

She felt a presence close to her. "Shut up, little man," A new voice spoke, a male voice, and it was so close to her that she jumped.

The sudden movement made her limbs scream in pain and a choked groan of pain escaped her lips. The voice chuckled and she flinched as she felt his hand stroke her cheek. Her stomach rolled and rage filled her.

"Don't touch me, you sick fuck!" She yelled.

Sanchez cried out as the man backhanded her. Her body swayed with the movement.

"Such language," he chided her, then his voice took on a menacing purr, "Does Louis like your filthy mouth?"

She felt his hands around her head, and then suddenly, the blindfold was gone. She blinked sporadically in the abrupt, bright light. She knew the man in front of her, though she had never met him before. She recognized him from his mug shot and it sent a spike of fear through her body.

It was Paul Rook.

Back at the precinct, Fitch was losing it. Longford had taken the mystery man into custody while Mahajan worked on identifying him and Fitch had been banned from interacting with the suspect. Mason and Stone stayed with Fitch, watching as he vented his anger with colorful swear words and trashing his desk.

"Should we restrain him?" Stone asked.

"We should let him be for the moment and be thankful that he hasn't gone for his gun." Mason replied, keeping a careful eye on the Detective.

When he started to slow down, she crossed the room to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We will get them back." She left no room for arguing in her voice.

His eyes met hers and they were still wild, filled with rage and a touch of fear. Mason tried to keep him focused on the task at hand.

"How long have you and Sanchez been together?" she asked, "We need to figure out how long he's been watching you."

"Almost five months now." Fitch exhaled deeply and picked up the pictures that Mason had set down on the conference table and began to flip through them. He stopped at a picture of him and Sanchez, arm in arm, heading into Tre Monti. "This was our third date."

Mahajan and Longford entered the bullpen, a large file in Mahajan's hands. "We found out who the mystery man is." He announced, "Ryan Spencer, rap sheet as long as my arm. Dozens of felonies, blah, blah, blah…He was released from prison six months ago after serving eight years..."

"Find out how he ties into this." Mason instructed the two partners, who nodded and headed to the interview room where they had put him, then she turned to Fitch and Stone, "You two stay out of that room or I'll have you both suspended,"

Damon Washington had never wanted to kill a man before. But as he watched, bound and helpless, as Rook laid into Sanchez with his fists, he wanted to choke the life out of the motherfucker. As much he was angry, he was impressed that Sanchez wouldn't give Rook the satisfaction, even when he taunted her with Fitch.

Rook stopped after what felt like forever and stood back, admiring his handiwork. Sanchez continued to glare at him and spit out the blood that had gathered in her mouth at him. Rook reached into his pocket and pulled out a slender object and flicked it open. She froze at the sound; it was a blade. Her heart hammered in her chest. The psicópata had a weapon and she had no way of fighting off his attack. Fuck.

Sanchez did the only thing could do. She met his eyes with her fierce glare and braced herself for his move. Washington fought against his restraints, ignoring the sharp sting as the metal of the cuffs around his wrists cut into his skin. Rook stepped toward her and pressed the knife to her throat. The blade was sharp enough that she could feel pain as it moved into her skin. She wanted to tell Washington to tell her Mami and Papá, her familia, that she loved them. She wanted to tell Washington to tell Fitch that her death wouldn't be his fault. She didn't need to add on to tell Fitch she loved him; he knew. But she couldn't form the words, afraid to speak while that blade was against her throat.

Rook, in a quick movement, took the blade from her throat and brought it down the front of her button down shirt. Sanchez could hold back her gasp of shock. Her destroyed shirt hung open and her light blue lace bra was exposed. The man smiled at her, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"That's better." He said, nodding to himself.

She swallowed hard and fought a grimace as her face radiated with pain from his blows and at the tang of the blood that moved down her throat. He chuckled softly.

"You hang tight, I need the rest of my materials, I'll be right back."

Rook headed to one of the office doors that lined the wall to the right. Sanchez blew out a long breath as he left the room and she and Washington were finally alone. Her gaze fell to the rookie, who had tear tracks down his cheeks. She tried to give him a comforting smile but failed as her cheek spasmed in pain.

"I'm alright." She assured him.

"I'm sorry," Washington replied, "For not being able to help you."

"It's okay;" Sanchez answered calmly, "Fitch will be coming. He'll get Rook."

"You're really with him, huh?"

She laughed softly, "Yes, I am. And I can only imagine what he's going to do to Rook. You know how he is when he's mad? Rook is going to be dealing with the only man who could make the devil back down."

Washington smiled but quickly turned serious. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified. More terrified than I've ever been in my life." She admitted, "But I know Fitch will save us and that's what's keeping me sane."

They had a location. Ryan Spencer had been cellmates with Rook for six years. Apparently, they had become good friends. Which is why, when Spencer was being released, Rook asked him to do a favor, Spencer accepted without question. Rook's favor was to keep an eye on the cop that had put him in jail, learn his weakness, and report back. Which Spencer did, and then some; the pictures had been for fun.

The man had also informed where Rook had Sanchez and Washington rather quickly. He had smiled at the two way glass, where Fitch stood seething, as he said it.

"This was all part of the plan." Spencer revealed then laughed, "I sure hope you get there on time." He then gave them the address.

Fitch was surprised when Longford got into his passenger seat when they raced out to their cars. The elder detective didn't offer any explanation as to why he chose to ride along with Fitch and only said one thing to him on the ride over. Well, two things. First he spoke in Italian, and then after Fitch gave him a hard look, he translated into English.

"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

They arrived there, lights lit up, sirens wailing, not fifteen minutes later. Fitch tried to keep his focus, and tried not to think about how much time Sanchez and Washington had been alone with the psychopath (two hours and a quarter hours). As their plan fell into place and he kicked in the front door, his focus clear.

In the middle of the empty warehouse, Sanchez hung, suspended from chains that were connected from the ceiling. Washington was twenty feet away to the left, cuffed to an old iron radiator.

Where the hell was Rook?

There were six doors to the right; leading to what Fitch could only assume was offices. He could be in any of those rooms! Then there was a sudden movement behind Sanchez and Rook was there, holding a knife against her throat as he used her body as a shield. Fitch took in a second to take in Sanchez, from her open shirt to the bruises that marred the skin of her face, abdomen, and neck. White hot rage filled him and he let it pilot him, moving automatically closer to them. He could hear the rest of the team grumbling behind him about not having a shot.

"Stop right where you are, Detective Fitch." Rook said, "Or your lady gets her throat slit from ear to ear."

Fitch obeyed, freezing instantly. He noticed that there was just enough of Rook's head exposed that if he fired just right, he could take him out. But there was still a greater chance of him hitting Sanchez. The odds made him sick.

"If you got a shot, take it!" Sanchez yelled then winced as the knife cut into her skin.

Fitch saw blood well up underneath the blade and trickle down her neck in twin trails. He saw the pain that Sanchez tried to hide her pain. Rook moved just right and Fitch had enough of a target and fired. The shot hit Rook in the middle of the forehead and he released the knife and fell back, dead.

There was a flurry of movement as Fitch holstered his weapon and went to Sanchez. Stone went to find the release for the chains, Mahajan went to undo Washington's cuffs, and Longford went to check Rook's body for any vital signs. Fitch held Sanchez gently against him with one arm as Stone lowered the chain, and unhooked her with his free hand. Sanchez made a small sound of relief twinged with pain as she sagged against him, her injured body weak.

"Hi, amante," She murmured softly.

Fitch had the urge to chuckle, knowing she lapsed into Spanish under stress, anger, or exhaustion, but he resisted and simply replied, "Hi there."

"Yo sabía que usted me salvaría."

He smiled into her hair as the EMS entered the warehouse. "Siempre."

* * *

Spanish:

_Psicópata_: Psychopath

_Mami:_ Mommy

_Papá: _Daddy

_Familia: _Family

_Amante_: Lover

_Yo sabía que usted me salvaría_: I knew you would save me

_Siempre_: Always

_There will be an epilogue..._


	5. Epilogue

Title: As You Wish  
Author: The Rockerbabe  
Claim: Detroit 1-8-7  
Table: Buffet (at fc_smorgasbord over at livejournal)  
Prompt: #1 (Desire, Ask, Believe, Receive)  
Rating: T (Just in case)  
Summary: Rook is dead and Sanchez and Washington are safe. But the memory of the events still linger…  
Warnings: Implied Sensuality; The Epilogue to Dangerous Game  
Notes: AU after "Lost Child/Murder 101", set in my "Bailamos/Rhythm Divine" Universe. As always, this is unbeta-ed, please forgive any mistakes!

Disclaimer: Detroit 1-8-7 does not belong to me in any way

* * *

Three days passed. Damon Washington and Ariana Sanchez had been brought to the hospital and evaluated. From their initial kidnapping, the car crash, cuts and bruises were scattered across their bodies. From Rook, Washington had two sprained wrists and a few fractured ribs; having received the less of the blows.

Sanchez on the other had needed stitches for the deeper cuts from the blade Rook used. Like Washington, she had a few fractured ribs, but also two of hers were broken. But some of her internal organs were bruised. She stayed under supervision in the hospital for a couple of days, until they were sure she wouldn't get an infection or any other complication from her injuries.

After enough time had passed, the doctor's released her with pain meds and the order of taking it easy until she was fully healed. By the time Fitch got her back to her apartment, she was exhausted. He guided her into her bedroom and helped her out of her clothes. While she got into bed and got comfortable, he removed his clothes and climb in beside her.

He longed to hold her against him but didn't want to add on to her pain. Instead, he lay against her side, careful to keep enough space between them. Sanchez turned to face him and their eyes met in the dim light from the moon that filtered in from her blinds. Fitch reached out and ghosted his fingertips over her face.

She smiled at him and it was slow and contented. He smiled in return and watched as her eyes drifted shut and her sleep overcame her. It had been a very long time since Louis Fitch prayed. But has he watched her sleep, he found himself thanking God that she made it out alive and in one piece then somewhere between thoughts, he fell asleep.

He awoke to Sanchez screaming. He opened his eyes and found her sitting up in bed, her breathing erratic. Fitch sat up slowly and touched her shoulder gently, wincing as she jumps under his touch.

"Shhh, Ariana," He soothes her, "It's alright, you're safe, I have you."

He can feel her still and her muscles relax as his voice registered. She's still breathing hard. Sanchez tried not to panic as she couldn't catch her breath, the pain in her ribs exploding with each inhale. Fitch rubs her back and murmurs words of encouragement until her breathing became normal.

"Do you want your meds?" His voice is soft

Sanchez silently shook her head and leaned in carefully, kissing him on the lips. She lay back and pulled him with her.

"We shouldn't." Fitch's voice was a gentle warning

"I don't care." She replied firmly

He smiled down at her. He could never resist her when she was determined.

"As you wish," He murmured before bringing his lips back to hers


End file.
